Trees
by shinybezel
Summary: Santana and Quinn bond through Tree related activities.    Mentions of Brittany/Santana    Femslash.     Rated M for teen Drug and Alcohol use, Sexuality and language.


Santana doesn't know how she managed to get herself into this predicament. She's alone on a friday with no plans for the weekend. Puck's been off with the blimp, lifting at the school gym, stealing boxes of candy bars from Costco, pinching open jumbo family sized Cheetos bags to let out the air before stuffing in hoodie- it's like he's found his soul mate. Santana hasn't been turned on by Puck in weeks, and Brittany has been busy with roller boy, so she hasn't gotten her mack on in a while. Her bullshit tolerance has been at a record low for the past few weeks. This is exactly how she finds herself in Sue's office fifteen minutes before cheerios practice( a canceled practice she didn't even know was canceled until Sue called her into her office after seeing her heading onto the field in uniform). The frightening coach knows Santana has been off, and she's eager to take advantage of the situation. Sue doesn't need to say much before Santana's ranting and raving about everything from too much Christmas cheer, to how she just got a parking ticket last week for parking in a handicap stall (she was late to school and there wasn't any other parking left in the lot). The source of Santana's rage is all too obvious. Her angry rant is transparent; the girl doesn't mention Brittany at all. Jealousy, Sue realizes, is an emotion Santana lacks the ability to process. Sue nods and offers a few pained smiles for a few moments before stopping Santana.

"You know what you need? A good old fashion rage releasing workout." Sue reaches behind her desk and pulls out a fireman's axe. Santana cocks an eyebrow. She really shouldn't be surprised her coach has firefighting paraphernalia under her desk. "Tis the season…" Sue continues. "Why don't you go and cut down some baby Christmas trees? It'll be a good workout and the Cheerios winter party will have some extra cheer this year." Sue grins maliciously as she hands Santana a map of the school. All the handi-accessible ramps are circled and highlighted in red. "I figured it would be easier for you to wheel them in," Sue says when Santana makes a face at map. "Though it would be a shame if those ramps were damaged- oh look at the time! I've got to catch a flight to Orlando, got a gator wrassling torment this weekend."

With that Santana finds herself in an empty hall with a bright red fire ax in her hands. She doesn't see Quinn curiously watching her through window. Quinn noticed she took the wrong duffle home on her drive home and had just returned to campus when she noticed Santana's figure in the hall. Quinn squints at Santana's silhouette for a few moments before recognizing the item in the Cheerio's hands. The blonde smirks and wonders who has the firefighter fetish, Brittany or Puck. The amusement drops from her face when she realizes that Brittany is off with Artie and his dad at some Christmas event at the Disneyland, or world in Florida and the last she remembered, Puck was with Lauren. They jumped in Puck's pickup two days before school officially ended and drove south for a sweet potato fries and crawfish eating tournament in Louisiana, or wherever Creoles and crawfish came from. Quinn winces and physically shakes her head to rid a particularly unsavory image from her mind.

The Cheerios captain decides to follow the ax wielding cheerio. If Santana ended up in jail, Sue would kill Quinn. As much as Quinn's relationship with Santana has fluctuated, she still cares about the Latina enough to not want her to throw her life away. Also, they need Santana if they want to win anything this year. Quinn's eyes perk when Santana drops a sheet of paper as she leaves the hall. The blonde gasps when she sees the violently circled handi ramps on the paper. 'Sweet Jesus, Santana must have been in a rage…' Quinn thinks as she feels the violent pen marks in the paper. 'Santana's going to destroy the ramps because of Artie!' Quinn sprints down hall with the ugly realization in her head. She watches as Santana gets into her car. Being captain is starting to take more work than Quinn expected.

It's pitch black when Santana returns to William Mckinley. Quinn sighs as her stomachs rumbles. She's spent the last few hours watching the furious cheerio attack a cluster of baby Christmas trees in the woods near the local bowling alley. She had to admit, girl has guns. Quinn's not too proud about ogling the Latina's toned, tan arms as she rained fury and destruction onto the trees. In fact, Quinn started doubting her original suspicions about the ramps as soon as Santana pulled into the clearing by the trees. The blonde just couldn't tear her eyes away from the way Santana grunted and growled as she swung away with the axe. Santana is sex on legs in a cheerios uniform, there's no denying that. After all, Quinn did put her second on he Glee list for a reason-not that she'd ever admit it to Santana.

Now there's absolutely no reason why she's still stalking the angry girl. Quinn slouches in her car as Santana starts wheeling the trees into the gym. Even though Quinn can't hear Santana struggling with he heavily loaded wheelbarrow, she can see the exertion in her face, the muscles tightening in toned forearms. Quinn smiles to herself when Santana pauses at the foot of the ramp and pulls out a compact from her cheerios jacket pocket and checks her hair and eye makeup. Worry flits across Quinn's face when Santana stumbles at the foot of the ramp; the front wheel of the wheelbarrow is stuck between the ground and the scuffed ramp. The feisty cheerio let's out a string of bilingual curses. Santana throws the handles to the ground and reaches for the axe in the wheelbarrow.

"Wait!" Quinn shouts as she bursts out from where she's been spying in her car. Santana twitches mid swing and takes out the WMHS plaque besides the ramp's handrail.

"What in the actual fuck!" Santana shrieks, ax in hand.

"Sorry," Quinn breathes as she reaches the other girl. "I thought you were going to kill the ramp."

"Excuse me?" Santana spits out. She glowers at Quinn. Embarrassment burns in Quinn's cheeks as Santana stares at her like she's gone woolly in the head.

It takes Quinn a full five minutes to explain how it is that she ended up stalking Santana around Lima. When she's done she's surprised to see Santana looking quietly out into the distance, at the empty football field. The anger she expected from her isn't there.

"Artie and I aren't exactly friends, but I wouldn't do that." Santana scoffs. "He's not the only cripple here you know!" Quinn suppresses the urge to tell Santana it's not ok to use the word cripple but she stops and accepts the kindness(by Santana Lopez standards) behind her harsh words.

"Come on, I'll help you." Quinn lifts the wheelbarrow and starts up the ramp.

"Why are you being nice to me?" Santana asks as she takes one of the handles from Quinn and starts pushing. Quinn shrugs. When they're almost done with setting up the trees in the gym Quinn smiles to herself as she watches Santana gently fix a wayward branch.

"What time is it? I'm starving…" Quinn pretends to check the time on her phone. For some reason, she doesn't want to go home yet. She actually wants to spend a little more time with Santana. It's been ages since they've been civil to each other, much less outside of school hours. Quinn grins to herself before turning to face a busy Santana. "Want to go to Breadstix?" Quinn barely jumps as the last tree falls from Santana's hands as the brunette whips around to face her. "Is that a yes?"

They drop Quinn's car off at her house before they go to the restaurant because Santana insists on getting wasted. Quinn protests for a few minutes but quickly agrees when Santana rationalizes that it would be better if they crash her car and not Quinn's. "My dad's getting me a new Range Rover for my birthday anyway," Santana says. It's not surprising when their waiter succumbs to their batting eyes and 'forgets' to check their ids when they order their Mai Tais and AMF's. In fact his grin only grows when the words, "Adios Mother Fuckers," leave Santana's mouth as she orders.

"Wow. Do you do this often?" Quinn asks with part awe and part shock as she watches a nervous bus boy set their drinks on the table. Santana downs half of her highlighter blue cocktail in one swallow. A warm blush appears on her tan cheeks.

"Not often enough," Santana smiles mischievously. For the first time in months, there's nothing remotely malicious in the smile directed at Quinn. Quinn reaches for her own drink. A blush appears on Quinn's cheeks before the glass even touches her lips. Santana pretends not to notice as she slides the remainder of her AMF towards Quinn.

Their sleazy waiter is in his early thirties. Although it's obvious he knows they're still in high school, he keeps the drinks coming. By the time dinner is half over, Quinn realizes that she's glaring at him every time he comes back to enjoy Santana's blatant flirting with complimentary drinks in. By the time dessert arrives, Quinn realizes that she's glaring because every time he comes over, Santana's eyes and charming smile aren't shining in her direction. She's so busy watching the way Santana bites her lips after every other sentence, she doesn't hear any of the conversation until, a warm sock covered foot nudges her thigh under the table.

"What do you say Q? Mike gets off at 11. He says we can hang out at his apartment…" Santana says. Quinn's suddenly very alert. Santana's foot is resting on the inside of her left thigh and she can feel the warmth through the light cotton. The brunette smiles slowly as she rubs Quinn's thigh reassuringly before looking back to the waiter. Quinn stops listening again as Santana's foot lingers on her thigh. Santana says something and the waiter's leaving the table with a huge grin on his face. "Q?" Santana says. She slides her foot up and Quinn's full attention in on her. "You ok with that?" Santana asks.

"Yes. Of course," Quinn says, not knowing what she's ok with. When the bill comes, Santana winks at Quinn as she reaches over the table to stop Quinn's hands as they open her wallet. Quinn knows Santana is loaded, but it's not like the girl to pay for anything she doesn't have to. When their waiter smirks and winks in their booth's direction, Quinn gets the feeling that she's not going to be happy with whatever arrangement Santana has with the waiter.

"Come on Q," Santana says, sliding out of the booth.

"Wait, we're not really going to his house are we?" Quinn whispers as Santana leads her to the exit by the hand. Santana pauses in the corridor leading to the bathroom, ignoring dirty looks from several female staff members as she gently presses Quinn against the wall next to a unbelievably still functioning pay phone.

"I thought you said it was ok?" Santana says, standing almost too close for comfort.

"We don't have to do anything…to…with him right?" Quinn says, stumbling over her words. The blonde finds her fingers tangled in the metallic pay phone cord as she fidgets under Santana's unwavering gaze.

"Of course not Q…I just wanted to see if I could score some free weed…on top of that amazing, complimentary dinner," Santana smirks. "We don't have to go. I have something better in mind," Santana says. She takes Quinn by the hand and tugs on it. "Come on Q," Santana says with a reassuring smile. Quinn smiles to herself as she follows Santana towards the exit, and freedom from the stuffy, over heated restaurant. Just because the temperature was dropping didn't mean Breadstix had to bake their customers with a broken heater. The smile drops from Quinn's lips when their waiter appears between them and the exit.

"Ladies, forgetting something?" he says. "My number and address?" he adds when Santana stares at him blankly, annoyance creeping into her eyes. Santana ignores him, pushing past his stationary form into the parking lot. Quinn flinches when he bursts out of the restaurant into the parking lot. Santana positions herself between Quinn and the waiter when he uses his body to cut off their path to Santana's car.

"Ok," Santana pauses to read his name tag before maliciously spitting out his name. "Brad. I'm sure corporate would love to heard about how you're serving underage girls drinks in hopes of luring them to your creepy date rape den in downtown Lima," Santana starts when the waiter grabs her forearm.

"Hey listen, I comped your dinner. You two come over for some after hours fun, that was the plan," the waiter growls lowly. Santana's arm whips up out of his grip. A tan finger is held menacingly in his face as mocha eyes narrow and darken.

"No you listen. One of two things is going to happen. You back the fuck off and shut the fuck up before I call corporate and tell them you just touched me inappropriately, after serving me alcoholic drinks, or you back the fuck off and shut the fuck up before I call my grandfather, my uncles and my cousins, who are all high ranking officials and officers in Lima PD." Santana squeezes Quinn's hand reassuringly in the middle of her speech. Quinn realizes that she's been unconsciously tightening her grip on Santana's hand. "Wait, hold on. I meant one of three things. Sorry, I've never been good at math." Santana turns and smiles apologetically at Quinn before whipping around to glare at the now speechless waiter. "Or I fuck up your face and ride with the fire ax I keep in my back seat." Santana glances into the back seat of her Range Rover. The waiter follows her gaze to the shiny ax laying on the black leather. Santana squeezes her remote key through her Cheerio's jacket pocket. Brad jumps as the alarm chirp and corresponding blinking taillights fill the darkened parking lot. The doors unlock with a loud click.

"Sorry," Brad stammers with his hands up. He stumbles backwards, keeping his eyes on Santana for a few moments before jogging back into Breadstix.

Quinn lets out a loud laugh as Santana pulls hazardously onto the road in a cloud of squealing tires and flying snow. The drinks from dinner keep Quinn happy and oblivious to the fact that the SUV's traction system warning blinks in alarm as Santana swerves onto the highway.

"I can't believe we haven't done this before!" Quinn squeals in contentment.

"I can't believe you never told me you were down to drink Q!" Santana beams. Her eyes linger dangerously on Quinn before snapping back to the icy road. Thank you cousin Mike for putting snow chains on the tires(not to mention lowering the truck and adding race suspensions).

"Well, you know, after the whole Puck pregnancy thing, I kind of avoided drinking," Quinn says. She surprises herself when she giggles after admitting that embarrassing piece of information.

"Don't worry Q, I'll try not to knock you up," Santana laughs, punctuating her sentence with a loud slap on Quinn's thigh. "No promises though," the Cheerio adds with a chuckle.

"Oh you can try," Quinn says. "But momma Fabray put me on the pill as soon as I moved home…Not that I'm getting any…But it totally made my boobs bigger," Quinn says, looking down at her chest.

"I totally should have tried that!" Santana says. "It would have been cheaper, but then Dr. Lopez would be unhappily over informed about his daughter's sex life," Santana says.

"What ever! I liked you boobs! So perky!" Quinn blurts out.

"But I had no jiggle to my wiggle!" Santana laughs. "It's cool though. I got a great deal, and they still feel totally real," Santana says.

"Really?" Quinn asks, biting her lip. Santana grins slyly at her from the corner of her eye.

"You totally want to feel them," Santana says accusingly.

"Maybe…" Quinn blushes. She blushes even harder when Santana leans forward out of her seat and turns her torso towards Quinn.

"Come on girl." Santana shimmies, shaking her chest at Quinn when the blonde hesitates.

"Really?" Quinn asks, cursing the poorly timed return of her inhibitions. Santana reaches over and grabs Quinn hand. Before Quinn can blink, Santana's warm, and very real feeling right breast is in her hand. Her jaw drops as her hand hovers, frozen over Santana Lopez right boob. The entire student population would kill to be Quinn at this moment, and all she can do is stare at her hand like it's a foreign appendage she's not capable of controlling.

"You gotta squeeze to feel the difference," Santana says. Santana's warm hand covers Quinn's and squeezes for her. Suddenly it's way too warm in the car, and it's not the heated leather seats under Quinn's Cheerio's skirt. "Now that we just hit second base, you totally need to take me out to dinner," Santana teases.

"But we just did that," Quinn says, regaining her liquid courage.

"It doesn't count if you don't pay Fabray." Santana bats her eye lashes at Quinn.

"Did you just rhyme?" Quinn asks, amused.

"Maybe. Maybe I'm a little drunk," Santana admits.

"And you're driving? Santana! Pull over!" Quinn demands.

"Here?" Santana scans their surroundings and realizes they're near one of Lima's teen's favorite hookup spots.

"Why, where are we?" Quinn asks, unaware of North Point Grove's reputation.

"I'll tell you later," Santana smirks as she pulls in.

Luckily, she was one of few WMHS's students who drove a car capable of toughing it through bad snow storms. Santana smiles as she realizes the grove is empty. She opens a window and smiles in surprise when the air outside feels several degrees warmer than she expects. Quinn fiddles with the radio as Santana leans over the armrest into the back seat. The blonde tries to ignore Santana's indecently exposed backside as a pair of bright spanks wiggle near her face. She breathes a sigh of relief when Santana finally pulls herself back into the driver's seat with a large, soft blanket in her arms. Her relief is short lived when Santana opens the sunroof. Quinn finds herself looking up Santana's skirt again when the brunette hoists herself up on the roof with easer.

"You coming?" Santana's voice floats down from above. A tan hand appears in the opening. Quinn smiles in the dark and reaches up.

Quinn has to marvel at Santana's set up. The blanket is so large, it easily covers the top of the car, with enough left over to snuggle into. As she lays down next to Santana's warm body, the brunette pulls the blanket up over their bodies.

"The view here is amazing," Quinn breathes as she looks up at the clear night sky.

She squints when a lighter sparks next to her face. She tilts her head just in time to see Santana lighting up a fat joint. Quinn can't help but stare as a thick, white cloud of smoke curls out of Santana's parted lips. Quinn wonders if there's anything Santana can do without it being sexy. Full lips close around the perfectly rolled joint. The head cheerleader is mesmerized. Then she does something so uncharacteristically Quinn Fabray, it shocks even her as she rolls over and presses her lips to Santana's before the brunette can exhale. The kiss is soft and slippery and warm in all the right ways. Quinn swears she can feel Santana's heart racing against her chest (it is, partially from the taste of Quinn's lips, and partially from holding in the extra large drag she just took). Suddenly Santana pulls away and white tendrils of smoke start escaping from her lips. Quinn pulls Santana's face close and kisses her again before she can exhale. Santana's eyes widen as she realizes the implications of Quinn's actions.

The brunette closes her eyes and slowly exhales into Quinn's ready mouth. Santana has to hand it to Quinn. For a first time smoker, she doesn't cough or choke at all. Santana pulls away to inhale a much needed breathe of oxygen before pressing her lips to Quinn's away. The joint glows warmly in Santana's fingers, inches away from Quinn's hair as Santana's gently cups Quinn's face. They kiss, passing the toke back and forth until they're barely exhaling any smoke. The kiss lasts so long the joint's cherry is cold and out by the time they're done. They share another large toke and Quinn's not sure if she's stoned (she is) but she feels amazing. Santana recognizes the glossy(and lusty) look in Quinn's eyes, so she stops exhaling directly into the blonde's mouth. Getting Quinn retardedly stoned wasn't a priority. Having the blonde roll off the top of the SUV would be a very bad thing, considering how well their night was going at this moment. Santana wraps an arm around Quinn and gently rolls to her side, setting Quinn on her back. Quinn smiles widely as she looks up at the stars past Santana's head. The brunette on top of her is laying gentle kisses up and down her neck. Each kiss is a touch of warmth on her exposed skin in the cold night air. Santana smiles when Quinn's head lifts off the roof of the car as the blonde tries to inhale the smoke Santana is gently blowing over each spot she kisses on her neck. Quinn pouts when Santana polishes off the remainder of the joint, expertly holding it by tips of both thumbs and forefingers. Santana licks her finger and makes sure the stub is completely out before she flicks it into the darkness. Quinn giggles as Santana trails light kisses from her jawline to the neckline of her Cheerio's uniform. The brunette on top of her lifts the neckline and pretends to peek inside, blowing a small cloud of smoke inside when Quinn squeals at the burst of cold air entering her top. Her Mai Tai coat is gone and Quinn starts to shiver. Santana quickly presses her mouth to Quinn's and blows a small puff of smoke into her mouth before laying down and pressing her body against Quinn's (for a lizard, Santana's body is amazingly warm).

Quinn shivers as Santana pulls the blanket tighter around their bodies. The blonde is stoned and very comfortable lying under Santana when her hands do something (she swears is) against her will. Quinn's hands wrap around the back of Santana's thighs and pull until tan knees are straddling her hips. The cheer captain's hands start sliding up under her co-captain's skirt. Santana's lips find Quinn's as her hands reach the curve of Santana's ass. Quinn Fabray has never felt more like a guy as she squeezes and gropes Santana's perfect ass as the brunette slowly rolls her hips, grinding against the blonde at an excruciatingly slow pace.

Quinn doesn't know how she manages to move from the top of the SUV to the trunk. She doesn't know when exactly Santana folds the back seat, opening up the full flat of the back, but she does know it's much warmer inside. It's a tangle of unzipped Cheerios' uniforms and discarded shoes in the car. Quinn finds it's strangely adorable that Santana keeps her tiny cheer socks on as she crawls on her hands and knees over to where Quinn is flat on her back, (again). Sometime during their journey down from the roof, Santana's pony is pulled loose and Quinn finds herself lost in a sea of Santana's soft, freshly shampooed hair. The blonde reaches up and tangles her fingers in brown locks and gets lost in the sensation against her finger tips. A warm, wet mouth attaches to Quinn's neck and suddenly she's tingling all over. Santana knows how to use her tongue, Quinn's soft moans and mewls are evidence of this as the brunette suckles on her pulse points. Tan hands move all over Quinn's body. They dip under her bra and rub pink nipples, they slip into the back of Quinn's spanks and squeeze her ass, most of all, they linger near the cotton bridge of Quinn's spanks, waiting for the go ahead before gently pulling the underwear aside. Quinn gasps as a finger slips inside of her. Between the moving hand inside her spanks and the mouth attached to her and the fingers around her nipple, Quinn starts losing herself to the pure sensation of being touched. Santana draws lazy circles around Quinn's hard clit with her thumb for a few moments before starting to inch another finger in. Quinn moans loudly as Santana's wraps her lips around her nipple and simultaneously pushes two fingers deep inside Quinn's wetness. Stars fill Quinn's vision (both behind her eyelids and through the dark tint of Santana's rear window) as Santana starts pushing her fingers in and out of her. Quinn's breathing grows ragged and hurried. She nearly has a heart attack when Santana's suddenly no longer on top of her. Quinn cranes her next and just about dies when she sees Santana's head between her thighs. The brunette, holds Quinn's spanks to the side with her free hand and looks up to meet Quinn's eyes before leaning forward and pressing the flat of her tongue against her hard clit. The blonde's strong thighs clamp shut, but Santana's prepared for this reaction- her shoulders are positioned in just the right way to keep Quinn's thighs open enough to have optimal movability with her head. Her head dips up and down between Quinn's legs as she laps at her pussy. The blonde's heavy breathing fills the car (from the outside, the wildlife of the grove is treated to yet another rocking vehicle). Then, Santana starts moving her fingers again. Santana wishes she has another hand as Quinn's breathing and the wet sounds of fucking fill her ears. The brunette is so turned on she swears she's about to come without actually being touched.

Quinn has both hands in Santana's hair when she starts coming. She's gripping hard enough for it to hurt but Santana's super stoned and super horny, (so it only turns her on more). It feels like she's going to explode as Quinn pulls Santana up to kiss her. Santana winces as Quinn's pussy squeezes incredibly tight around her finger as she comes. Quinn grips the back of Santana's neck kisses her so hard they'll both wake up with puffy, bruised lips tomorrow. She gasps and pants against Santana's lips between smoldering kisses as her body involuntarily grinds against Santana's hand as she rides of her first, non self-serviced orgasm ever. It takes a few minutes for her breathing to return to normal (she's still too busy to notice as she lazily kisses Santana).

"What?" Quinn asks sheepishly when she opens her eyes to find Santana grinning down at her in the dark. She rubs the skin below Santana's ears with both her thumbs as she waits for a response.

"Nothin'," Santana whispers as she leans down for another kiss when she feels Quinn tugging. They kiss softly for a minutes before Santana rolls onto her back. Quinn curls into her side and places a kiss on her neck.

"My mom's out of town this weekend…" Quinn says after a few moments of just listening to Santana's pulse.

"You're staying at my house," Santana says before Quinn can invite her to house sit. "My family is coming over for the Holidays. They're fucking crazy and I can't leave" Santana explains "…but the food. Girl. it, will, blow, your, mind," Santana says, emphasizing each syllable.

"Are you sure it's ok?" Quinn asks. She's thrilled by the invitation, but suddenly she's scared to meet the Lopez family.

"Don't worry. They'll be happy to meet one of my friends. I never bring anyone home to meet them," Santana says. It's true, her parents are usually too busy, and Santana doesn't do parental intros. Brittany is an exception, but even she has familial obligations during the Holidays so she hasn't met the Lopez family yet. "And they'll love you," Santana says, playing with the small gold cross on the thin chain around Quinn's neck.

The drive to Santana's house is quiet and calm. The radio's playing softly, both girls have an arm up on the window. Santana's fingers barely touch the wheel as she effortlessly steers the car, her other hand rests in Quinn's on the center arm rest. Santana has never done relationships well. Even when she briefly dated Puck before breaking up with him over his credit score, she never did the cuddling or hand holding thing. For some reason, Santana's not minding it right now. She feels a pang of guilt in her chest when she remembers the way she brushed Brittany's proposal of taking their not quite friendship to the next level. It quickly disappears when she remembers just how little time it took for her to latch onto Artie. A gentle squeeze brings her back to the blonde in her passenger seat. A thumb rubs the back of her hand and Santana realizes she could totally learn to love this intimate shit (but she'd never admit it).

By the time they pull into Santana's driveway, they realize it's too late to get clothes from Quinn's house. Santana doesn't tell Quinn she forgot on purpose. The brunette is shorter than the blonde, and she's intent on ogling their size differences for the entire weekend by forcing her to wear her clothes.

It's almost four in the morning when they finish showering and their heads hit the plush down pillows in Santana's giant four poster Mahogany bed. They're lucky it's winter and the sun won't rise for another few hours. Quinn looks up and finds herself shocked to see tiny glow in the dark stars peppering the ceiling. It's quiet for while when Quinn's head pops up.

"You're not going to sober up in the middle of night and kill me in my sleep are you?" Quinn asks, (only half jokingly).

"Q, either you, or the weed is making you paranoid." Santana smiles and pulls Quinn's head back down. "You don't have to worry. I'm a lizard, I need something warm in my bed or I can't sleep well," Santana smirks. She groans, remembering how horny she is when Quinn bites her shoulder. "Q…You better stop doing that for I'm going fuck you so hard you'll forget how to walk in the morning." Quinn stops biting down, but does not release Santana's shoulder. Santana wants desperately for Quinn to fuck her, but she knows the girls is inexperienced, and the activities of the night were probably already too much for her to handle so she lies as still as possible. Santana breathes deeply and fights the urge to grab Quinn's hand and shove it down her panties Again, Santana usually sleeps naked, the pair of brief panties were only on for Quinn's sake. Quinn presses a kiss to her cheek.

"Night San," Quinn breathes, voice heavy with sleep.

"Night Q," Santana whispers. She lies still, until Quinn's relaxed breathing tells her she's fast asleep. Santana stays awake for a while before slipping out of bed. She pulls a robe on and quietly opens the door to her balcony. She opens her phone and finds a few different texts, some with pictures, some without. The first few are from Puck. Santana squints at the tiny screen before realizing she's looking at Crustaceans. The last few are from Brittany. From the pics and awkwardly provocative (it's Brittany after all) texts, Santana figures that Artie isn't doing it sexually for Brittany. She doesn't delete them, she feels like she should, but she can't, not just yet, but she doesn't respond. Instead she replies to Puck. 'Puckasaurus, Satan's in deep deep shit' Santana hits sends as she lights up a joint. Her phone buzzes. 'WTF is Satan doing up at this hour if Puckasaurus and BrittBritt are out of town?'-Puckasaurus. Santana exhales deeply as she sends Puck a picture.

"Holy fucking shit," Puck whispers as he stares at his cell. He swears as he sits up and hits his head on the ceiling of the camper on his pickup. Lauren might be his new BFF, but the chick snores like a motherfucking freight train-he barely lasted 5 minutes on the couch before running out to his truck. Puck flips open his phone and takes a closer look and reconfirms that he's looking at a pair of hands interlocked, resting on an all too familiar, black leather, Range Rover front seat center console.

Santana clicks open as her phone vibrates in her hand. 'Holy Shit. Satan IS in trouble.' She shakes her head as she receives more messages from Puck asking questions. "Hello?" she says, answering the phone. She winces and holds the phone away from her ear as Puck's barrage of questions flow in through the ear piece. "Are you done?" Santana asks when there's a short silence. Puck says he's coming back early. Something about not being able to sleep with freight trains or something. "Wait? I didn't know Louisiana had a lot of trains-whatever. I'll explain when you get back." Santana hangs up before Puck can interject. She finishes her joint and tiptoes back into the room. She quickly brushes her teeth before crawling back into bed. Santana freezes when Quinn reaches out in her sleep and pulls her close. It feels strange to cuddle with someone who's not Brittany, but not in a bad way Santana notices. She presses a kiss to Quinn's forehead and feels herself drifting off to sleep.

Satan is so fucked.


End file.
